I got up, early in the morning, before the rest of my family. I couldn’t tell time by the clock yet, but I could tell by the light that it was just after Sunrise, earlier than I usually got up. I put my hands to my chest and then spread them wide, as I’d seen people do in cartoons after rising in the morning. Yes, it did feel good to do that. I walked around the living room in my pajamas, wondering what I would do next.
I had a strange feeling, something
I couldn’t remember having before, as though I ought to give a hug and a kiss
to my brothers, and to Mommy and Daddy, and then to all of the neighbors, and
then to everybody else in town, and then to everybody else in the country. I
pictured myself reaching out with some kind of magic to touch all of those
people and tell them I liked them all and they were good people and tell them
to be good. I wanted to tell all of them they should be happy and not to cry.
It was a strange feeling I had never had before.
My brother came in and found me
sitting on the couch staring at the wall.
“What are you doing?”
“Ummm…I’m playing that I’m Santa Claus
taking toys to everybody.”
“But you’re just sitting there.”
“I’m playing it inside my head.”
The Magic Eight-Ball says: "Have a good day. No, a really good day."
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